Parallel
by Lalilulelovee
Summary: Series of one-shots I write when I can't sleep at night. Both canon and non-canon. Most outside the story line. Mostly random ideas/prompts. Read and Review!
1. Deal of the Devil

A/N: Guess who's back? Hahaha

This is a one-shot by the way. Well, actually, I have a handful of one shots/shorts in my PC. Might as well publish some.

Read up! Oh, this is a bit confusing at first but go read it full, it's better.

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**Deal of the Devil**

I felt bare without a gun or any weapon in particular. I had been so accustomed to playing with my knife while waiting for my drinks to come.

But tonight, and for the rest of my life, I might not be able to hold one again.

I made a deal. I might as well honor it.

It almost burned my eyes to see my friends laughing at a bar, a few seats away from me.

"Bartender!" Shaundi's voice rang, "Another one please."

"Yo girl, take it easy." Pierce laughed, "We still have a party up at the penthouse, so save room for later."

"I thought we're celebrating. So let's drink up!" My lieutenant protested.

I missed hearing these two bickering like an old married couple. I missed them. All of them. A lot.

But I made a deal. I can't say I regret it, or that I don't either.

I guess it's better this way. They're alive. All of them, and that's always a better alternative than being dead without a fight.

"Hey bartender," I heard that familiar whistle I used to call my Saints with. I turned to see Gat seated on the stool beside me. I guess he got that from me. "Gimme your finest drink."

The bartender nodded at him, acknowledging who he was.

I stared at his profile, for a while. It had been a long time since I've been this close to him, and yet this was still pretty far from how we used to be. We used to be best friends, we're almost like blood related at times.

It was a small fee, I thought to myself when Zinyak made the deal. A small price that will only affect me, in exchange for what, billions of lives spared? Yes, I was that desperate.

My conscience was killing me everyday. Earth was blown up , and I know my crew would never say it straight to my face, but I know they blame me. And I think they were right to think that. I got too cocky and got not only myself, but the whole human race into a fight we couldn't finish.

He turned his head to me, probably seeing me staring at him from the corner of his eye.

"You look familiar." He peered over those dark glasses of his, "Do I know you?"

His words hurts more than it should have. We were strangers once again.

My heart skipped a bit, "No. I don't... I don't think so." I tried to sound less hurt than I was. "I know you, though..."

A small price to pay, I repeated to myself inside my head to consolidate myself.

He shrugged, not knowing what I really meant when I said I knew him. If only he knew how much I know of him...

"You're not a Saint, are you?" He pulled the sleeve of my purple cardigan. "I know my Saints, unless my lieutenant over there did some recruiting without my consent."

And if only he remembered how much he knows about me, he wouldn't be asking these stupid questions. I missed our usual conversations, where we're both laid back and don't tip toe around each other's words.

"Oh no, Pierce would never-" I stopped myself from sounding too familiar, "I mean, I don't think he'll go behind you back." I smiled sheepishly, looking embarrassed, "I guess he looks like a really reliable person."

"You're right. He is." He smiled at me, but it wasn't the same one he wore before. It seemed distant and unfamiliar. "Although these two can be a bit meddlesome and whiny."

"You can say that again." I chuckled. I shouldn't know Pierce personally now, but then again, I do.

Pierce walked towards us and tapped his shoulder, "Hey Boss, Oleg called, we should go. We gonna be late. And Shaundi's got too much to drink."

Same old Pierce, worrying about everything.

"Sure. Let's go." Gat nodded before standing up, not even giving me one last look. Yes, I meant that little to him now.

I wanted to grab his hand and keep him here. Keep talking casually to him, even for a little while longer.

But I was frozen and he was already halfway across the bar with Pierce.

"Who's the chic?" I heard Pierce say from a distance.

"I dunno. Didn't catch her name." He just shrugged without a care.

I never imagined that a day would come where we would ever be strangers again. We've been through so much, and I just thought, even after so many years have past, we'd probably all still hang out, when we're all old and withered. Even when the Saints disbanded, I was sure we would still see each other and talk like we used to.

It just hurts to realize that you are permanently erased from their lives. That everything you've been through was wiped out and replaced with some other memory which doesn't involve you.

I wasn't The Boss anymore. I lost the title together with my life as a Saint. I was just a regular working citizen of Steelport, trying to make it through life in a crime infested city. That was the price to pay.

I looked down at my empty glass. Empty - like my life now.

I was alone. Again.

"On the house." The bartender slipped a glass of scotch in front of me, replacing my empty glass.

"Scotch. My favorite drink." I smiled to myself.

I turned my head to the exit and saw Gat taking a quick glimpse at me as he walked out of the bar, with that classic smirk on his face. He gave me a sloppy two-fingered salute before disappearing into the night.

It made me smile a little.

No, it wasn't a small price to pay to reverse time and all the chaos that's happened. But it was worth it.

It's been five years since Zinyak's supposed invasion, but as I made a deal, that never happened. A lot of things didn't happen, in fact.

I didn't happen. Not the gangbanger or gang leader-me. Not the celebrity or the President-me.

It was still pretty peaceful on earth. And by peaceful, I mean in comparison when the alien warlord attacked. Of course, there was the usual crimes, corruption, and gangs trying to take over.

But that's what the Saints are for.

I picked up my glass and made a silent toast to myself before drinking up.

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A/N: Well, that's just a random idea. I love the Blue door-red door idea. It was an oh-shit moment for me. It's a hard decision, though an obvious one. But think about it, the other choice makes sense too. I take SR's decisions too seriously, like the one at the end of SR3.

Okay, I have an own storyline for SR IV which isn't too happy and this was probably set there. A SR where the Saints actually lost to Zin. Meh, I'll just write a prequel chapter if you want to know how it goes.

Read and review!


	2. Angels

A/N: Hi! This is not a ghost story. Just saying. But sure, if you want to look at it that way.

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**Angels**

_3 : 00 AM - Steelport_

The Boss rubbed her hands together and breath onto it to warm her fingers up. She shoved her hands into her hoodie's front pocket as she stepped out of the penthouse. She put the hood over her head.

Her sneakers squeaked as she began pacing faster into her morning jog.

Not really, she couldn't sleep for more than two hours so she always resorted to going out for a run, while also surveying the block around their current headquarters.

I know. I follow her around all the time. She barely sleep. She mostly lie on her bed and turn side to side.

Steelport was a buzzing city, even on hours when everyone is supposedly asleep. She passed a few shops still open at the hour, serving as her light, aside from the broken lamp posts, a few vagrants, some hookers, and occasional gang members which failed to recognize her with her hoodie up hiding her easily identifiable red hair.

It was a busy city, just as they described. Fast paced and modern, unlike back home.

She halted at the sight of an old cathedral across the street. She looked up for a few seconds before deciding to cross the road to reach it. She looked at the old double doors reluctantly at first.

I smiled a little, remembering how she used to stand in front of our church and muster up her courage before she could open it. She'd come a long way from that young girl. She was stronger now. She kicks down doors more often than not.

She touched the cold metal knob and pushed it, the door making a loud creak in contrast to the silent street.

She pulled down the hood of her jacket as she walked inside the cathedral looking around the empty hall. She was a non-believer but she knew etiquette. She made her way to the altar as quietly as she can, eyeing the few people inside the church, quietly praying to themselves.

The Boss took one of the candles and let its fire crawl onto another's wick, sharing its flame. She then clasped her hands together and bowed her head.

I leaned on the table and crossed my arms as I watched her standing still for the first time. This woman had always been fidgety, always moving. I remember her barely able to sit still when she rides shotgun with me back then. She just needs to be shooting or checking her gun or playing with her hair. She says that she gets bored easily. Fucking ADHD.

"I never realized you knew how to pray." I muttered as I tucked the red locks falling at the side of her face. "You never learned how to keep your hair in place until now."

I smiled gently as I stared at her and wondered what is it she is praying for. Or rather, which one she is praying for.

Although I can guess what it is.

The Boss had went through a lot through the years. I've seen her on her lowest times. I once thought it would be nice if she'd shut up and behave for a change, but whenever I see her quiet and sitting alone in one corner of her shower, I can't help but to feel sad that I couldn't even cheer her up.

I can't help but feel mad at the people who makes her cry. She was just so strong, or at least she kept that facade 24/7. Seeing her break down once in a while was a pain. It's even harder to look at her, knowing that I was one reason she cried once upon a time.

"Bring him back. Please." She mumbled silently with her eyes shut, "I never ask anything from you until now, so please... just..."

My heart sank. As I saw her wipe a tear with her sleeve and sniff.

Johnny had always cheered up the Boss, one way or another, though his ways are usually morally corrupting and involves a lot of explosions and gun fire. It works anyway, but still Gat is such a bad influence for the kid. Well, to be fair, we kinda all were. It's fair to say that we broke a sweet young girl for the sake of conquering, or in Julius' words, _saving_ the city.

Goddamn you, Johnny Gat, you arrogant prick. You should've known better than to leave the Boss alone.

I hated him now more than ever.

I wish I could grab her and pull her into the nearest sports car's passenger seat and drive until we reach a town far enough for her to forget what was bothering her.

We used to do that all the time. We hop into my blue Voxel and drive and drive and just sing along with the radio until we had no idea where we are anymore. She and I shared that love for fast cars and it will always cheer her up after a scolding from Julius. Then we go home laughing, as she had already forgotten what she was bummed about.

We were like sisters, holding onto each other's strength in a male dominated business.

But then I was taken from her too. She who has too few people to hold on to at that time, had her best friend taken from her.

I remember her screaming frantically before we sunk.

_"Lin! I'm gonna get you out of here! Don't worry." _She was kicking and screaming._ "Don't give up!"_

I remember her screaming my name over and over again after she resurfaced and diving back down even when she was already out of breath. She got terribly sick after that and was forced to take a week off to rest. She was so angry at Dex for suggesting that because she wanted to find me.

"You've always been like that hadn't you?" I said to her, "Always holding on to hope even when all other evidence suggests otherwise."

_"She might be alive! You didn't find a corpse! She's somewhere, let's go find her." _

I walked towards her and wrapped my arms around her, "And for that, I thank you. Thanks for not giving up so easily. It meant a lot."

I know her pains as I watched over her ever since. I know that she was crying as the rain poured over her face when she shot Carlos. I know how devastated she was when she found out who set her up. How she didn't sleep for days after the place incident. How she would pop one too many pills so she would feel numb for at least a day and forget what had happened.

And the worst part is that this keeps on happening to her, losing people she cares about. It was a vicious cycle.

I watched her change from being that carefree teenage gangbanger to being a vengeful leader who is ready to shoot someone point blank if they piss her off.

She was broken, beyond broken. Shattered on the inside. And yet she had managed to keep her tough exterior on a daily basis, making jokes to her new lieutenants and taking pictures with the citizens of Steelport.

I know she's still bleeding on the inside.

I planted a kiss on her cheek, "I know you can't hear me, but I want you to know that we know you're doing your best. We're all still watching you and rooting for you. All of us fallen."

I can't cheer her up anymore, and I know when she thinks of me, all she feels is hurt and guilt. But I will watch over her and will always cheer and wish for her victory.

She turned away and began walking towards the front door, her face back to being stern and cold as it usually is, still completely unaware of my presence or the presence of all others watching over her in her fight.

No, this isn't just her fight. She bears the flag of every Saint that was ever canonized. Every Saint who laid down their lives to get us here.

She owed us that much.

It's _our_ fight.

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A/N: Well, what do you think? I write weird stories, don't I? Admit it.

I don't know, sometimes I think, "what the freakin' hell will my dead homies think of me after this? Am I still respectable after this?" I'm looking at you, Zimos missions and Gangstas in space (which I had just played and omg Boss, I love you coz I made you but let's never make a movie again).

And then I wondered, what if it's true that once you die you can freely roam and watch the people you care about? Wow much pressure.

Read and Review.


	3. Otherside

A/N: Hiya! This is something I wanted to write for a loooong time. So bear with me.

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**Otherside**

My foot tapped with a rhythm from the music playing from my earphones as I looked around. I never liked the color of our base, to be honest. The orange-y pink hurts my eye. But who am I to dictate what to paint our base right? I'm just a foot soldier.

Okay, that's kind of a lie. Still, I value my head enough not to tell Monsieur Philippe that I hate the color.

I felt a tap on my shoulder. I turned around to see Viola standing with her arms crossed.

Or was it Kiki?

Five years in the Syndicate and I still can't tell the difference between them. I guess that makes me a shit employee.

The DeWynter twins were actually really nice, but they tend to get too serious with business. I guess that's one reason Mr. Loren likes those two. I actually admire those two. Two women in the top position in the top criminal organization in the city. It's awesome.

And they have really nice hair.

I wonder if I'll ever be like them someday. Nah, I heard they were really smart, and I'm well... always day dreaming and talking to myself.

"Aria! Are you even listening?" Viola... or Kiki snapped her fingers in my face, trying to catch my attention.

I realized I was dozing off again, "Yeah, yeah. Sir Philippe wants someone dead?"

"Yes. Go see Viola to get the mission brief." Oh, now I'm sure. This one's Kiki. "I think she's working with Miller. Go take a look."

"Sure." I picked up my red long coat and stood up to fix my tie. I took my violin case containing my sniper rifle parts resting in my locker.

Oh yeah. I'm one of those known as a specialist. It's nothing fancy, really. It's just that I have really stable hands, making me a good sniper. I guess the only perk of being on the ranks of the specialists is that I don't need to wear those skimpy outfits the women wear. I'm too shy to wear something so revealing.

When I first joined the Morningstar, I was terrified of the uniform for females, despite the fact that most girls join the Morningstar for that outfit, apparently. So I trained to be a sniper so I can wear the simple suit and long coat. Some specialists also wear dark rounded glasses but I already wear prescription glasses so I can't. Don't force me to wear contacts. I don't enjoy poking my eye.

However, being the only girl in the specialist class, with the exception of the Decker ladies, which I would've applied to coz they're totally awesome except I have a really shitty balance, Mr. Loren told me to use it to my advantage. He said my innocent, civilian look can be an edge, by making me blend with the crowd in disguise. Said that I could walk up beside the target and no one would suspect me. And so, he always sends me undercover, or to spy at someone before I kill them. That's why my rifle is in a violin case.

I also play the violin. I just keep it somewhere else.

God, I'm droning again. Sorry.

Anyway...

I was walking on the cherry colored hallway of the Syndicate Tower, looking for Ms. Viola. It was a big modern tower and I get lost easily. Sometimes I don't think I'm cut for this job at all.

"Aria Bellagio. Lost again?"

"Mr. Killbane." I stiffened when I heard his voice, "Yes. I'm looking for Ms. Viola."

"I think she went to the direction where you came from." Standing only five-foot-four, Eddie Pryor is almost double my height and maybe four times my weight.

"No, that's Ms. Kiki." I smiled politely. "She told me to go find her sister."

"Oh, then I hadn't seen her." Killbane chuckled. "Another assignment then?"

"Yes, they've been giving me a lot lately."

"That's because you've performed really well on that last big job of yours. The mayor is surely pleased that you've eliminated the guy trying to take his seat." He gave me a toothy smile, "You're the number one assassin in the Syndicate now."

Killbane can be really formal and not at all scary when he's not throwing people and things around. He could be really dramatic and poetic too. He and I both enjoy studying Greek mythology, and that's probably why we get along.

And I also try to be as nice to him as possible because I saw him throw a fit one time at his Luchadores and it got ugly.

"I- I'm not really..." I felt my cheeks go red.

"No need to be modest. You are our Artemis, the Goddess of hunt." He flexed his arms dramatically in the air. His voice was full of bravado, "You hunt our prey and bring glory to us. You should be proud of yourself."

"It's nothing really. I'm just doing my job." I smiled back. Then I remembered I had an assignment, "Oh, I need to go to Ms. Viola. I should go now."

"Good luck then."

"You too, Mr. Killbane. Reserve a ticket for me on the Murderbrawl, okay?" I said, waving goodbye.

I finally found Viola chilling in the computer room, or I don't know what it's really called. It's a room full of big computers and says, "DO NOT TOUCH". I touched it once. Bad ass.

"Ms. Viola, I found you." I said with excitement.

"Oh Aria. Took you long enough." Viola smiled as she walked towards one of the computers, "Matt, can you print me two copies of these?"

She handed him a flash drive, "Sure, just wait for a second."

"Hi Matt." I greeted him as I peered over his shoulder and looked at what he was working on. I can't really understand anything but it does look important to the Syndicate. "What you working at?"

"Hey Aria. Just draining someone's bank account dry. Usual errands for Loren." He said still typing with his black fingernails, "Looks like a tough one they gave you here."

Being around Matt and the DeWynters made me realize how uneducated I was. I mean sure, I went to college but these guys are really smart. Matt for one, is three years younger than me, but has already made a name for himself. He is a genius. That FBI girl's got nothing on him.

"I'm sure she can handle it." Viola smiled, "With Aria's skill, they don't stand a chance."

"So who am I hitting this time?" I smiled confidently.

Matt and Viola both looked at me with serious faces.

"Are you familiar with the Saints?" Viola asked me.

"They were the ones who hit our bank in Stilwater, right?"

"Yes, and they're dangerous." Matt stated, "I don't know why Killbane and Loren are taking their Boss lightly. But I think we should take them out as soon as possible."

The printer spat out the details of my mission. On the last page printed is a recent mug shot of the infamous leader of the Third Street Saints, taken just a few hours ago. Her devilish smirk on the photograph must have been more intimidating in real life.

That was my target.

I picked up the photograph and looked at her features carefully, before turning the next page full of video footage of her walking around town, her usual hide-outs and hang-outs. I began planning my assault in my head.

Viola said worriedly. "I heard she's one hell of a survivor. Make sure you kill her with your first bullet or she'll find you. She knows her guns too, not exactly the typical gangster who tilts their guns to the side like an idiot. So don't think she won't return the favor, with another sniper rifle or an RPG. She's crazy." Viola warned, "But if all else fails, just run. Don't try to fight her melee, I've seen her footage in the illegal fight clubs, she's good. Don't look back. Run."

"Think you can do it, Aria?" Matt asked.

I looked up from the photograph, "I'd love a challenge."

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A/N: If I were to join a gang in SR, I'd join the Morningstar to be honest. I guess I have a knack for men in suits, but still, fuck you Philippe! Kidding aside, I think they are more plausible as their organization sorta resembles the mafia, which I am a really big fan of. They're more of a mafia, rather than a gang, I think. Kinda like that secret organization existing in the criminal underworld, with a facade of legit businesses. It's what you call organized crime. And I loved that about them, because for the first time, I felt like I was fighting a group not so much muscle driven.

Oh and I also don't like the celebrity shit the Saints pulled so, yeah I'll go for syndicate. Sorry. And my personality will probably fit better there. Sorry again.

Oh yeah, about Aria. (Sorry, this is turning out to be a really long author's note) She's an OC I created a while back for one of those stories in FF where you give your OC/Boss, but instead of making a generic Saint, I made a Morningstar specialist. Oops. Snipers are usually my weapon of preference, when available. I remember playing some old school counter strike using only that.

Aria talks to herself a lot and dozes off in the middle of conversations, just like me. But no, I'm not schizophrenic, though my classmates tell me I am, together with other mental disorders. Psychology classes had been... fun for me. Aria can be really shy and modest, reluctant even, but when it comes to her job, she's top quality and she really delivers.

I also draw her a lot when in class. First I was just drawing her randomly before I based my OC on her. I was practicing how to make ombre hair then, so she became blonde-orange-y hair. I should post a pic someday...

Read and review!


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